Life and Times of William The Bloody
by tweak
Summary: Another fanfic depicting Spike's past. ( I made Angelus his sire instead of Dru. Deal with it!)


Title: The Secret Life of William the Bloody Author: Katie (AKA Asylum Escapee) Description: Another fic telling of Spike's Past Rating: PG13 Disclaimer: Joss's characters. My story (minor ripoff of IWTV) Lyrics are Carole Kings (and others by the Sex Pistols). - - - - - - - 

"So... Whadaya wanna know?" Asked Spike over a glass of gin. "Well, the basics! We don't know anything about you , Spike! I mean, vampiric, you've killed two slayers, were some kind of scourge, but we don't know anything about your REAL past!" Explained Willow, tape recorder in hand, a la 'Interview With the Vampire'. "This is gonna cost you, Red." He muttered. "Don't I know it." She responded, refilling his drink. 

~ "I was born William Aaron Nesmith in Bristol, on May 9th, 1843, give or take a few years. My mum was a seamstress, and my dad owned a pub. It might surprise you to know that I grew up with a fairly stable family. My mum wasn't a whore, and my dad never beat me with a broken whisky bottle. 

I had two brothers, both complete ninnys who wanted to work in Parliament. I also had one sister, a real gem of a girl. Always a talkative one. Her name was Leyah, and she was two years younger than me. She absorbed knowledge like so many a kitchen sponge. Or Bounty paper towels, whichever analogy you're more comfortable with. She was certainly the bright one of our lot, keen on going to Oxford, she was. But we had no money to send her, so she settled for marrying young. A real stupid sod, the lad was, too... Not nearly good enough for Leyah. She meant a lot to me, as I suppose you can tell. 

Anyway, one night, a few weeks after Leyah's wedding, I came stumbling home from my dad's pub. While walking the streets, I nearly walked headlong into the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was a vison in wine-colored velvet. In my drunken stupor, I asked her name. Actually, what I think I said was 'Hehehe. Pretty. Who you?' I'm sure I sounded like a bloody caveman. Yet, she still responded with the voice of an angel. 'Drusilla..." Before I could get one word out, she was whisked away by an incredibly tall man in a black cloak. All I could remember was his lilting Irish inflection, scolding 'Now Dru, what did I say about talking to strangers?' That was the last time I would see her face with human eyes.. 

Over the next few weeks, I worked as an apprentice tanner to a cranky man in a shop that reeked of leather. Even during the long, sweaty hours of work, I never forgot her exotic face and beautiful voice. I could also never forget the contempt I felt for the dark man who swept her away from me. 

It was quite the surprise when I saw the man again on my way home from work. He asked if I knew anything about tending to sick cats. Having had several tabby cats in my life, I responded that I knew the basics. I could probably help him, but before I could say that I wasn't really qualified, he took off and obviously expected me to follow. I did just that, and he finally stopped in front of a large, lavish house in an upscale neighborhood. We went in through the French doors, and I heard the sound of a woman quietly crying. THE woman. She was curled up on a fainting couch, her head in her hands. Several feline carcasses were strewn across the floor. I turned around to face the man, who by now you might know was Angelus O'Leary. His face had shifted, all traces of humanity gone from his features. I looked into his stark yellow eyes, as he said, 'Kitties won't eat.' Those were the last words I heard, alive." 

Spike looked across the table at Willow, who's mouth had dropped completely open in shock from what she had heard. "Great tale, eh pet? Story of my life." "U-Uh.. I-I-i... What about the rest of it?" She asked, desperate for more information. "There's still things you don't know about me, and want to? I'm amazed. Bloody amazed. I never knew I was that interesting." He grinned. "Boy... Howdy! Are you ever." Willow clicked the recorder again, and he spoke more. " There really isn't that much more to tell. Angelus made me because he was tired of Dru. He wanted to be rid of her, but felt she should be provided for. So he chose me. I lived with her beauty, her brains and her raging insanity for years. Just the type of companion a vampire like me could want. 

The only problem was, she was prone to dizzy spells. Spent a lot of time sleeping, she did. So I developed hobbies. I play 7 instruments, though I favor guitar. I can also speak 4 human languages fluently, and several demon ones. You pick that up when hiring henchmen. 

Dru and I were together for over 90 years, we hardly ever spent a day apart, and I long for her now like Christians long for their God. But I get by. You and your friends provide some pretty good company, much as I put you all down. Sure, I miss the old days of evil, torture and death, but living like this has perks. Friends with lives like the best soap operas, not having to worry about killing the slayer... And, ooh! Free booze. You can never forget the free booze. " 

Willow smiled and clicked off the tape recorder. "Your life would make a great movie, Spike." "Naw... Just a cheesy horror flick." He said, modestly. "Say whatever you like, but I was enthralled. There was ass glue-age to my seat, for sure." "I could have taken that moment of weakness, and bitten ya good!" He chuckled. "You just go ahead and try, Spike. I know Tai-Chi, and I could kick your butt reeeaaaalllyyy slowly!" They both laughed at her joke. Willow collected her stuff from the table and got up to leave. "Going so soon, Red?" He asked. "Yeah, I've gotta study for a calculus final." She admitted. "See ya later then." He said. "Yeah. Oh... And Spike?" "Mmm?" "Thank you." 

When she had gone, he grabbed his acoustic guitar, and let his fingers dance over the frets. 

~~ My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue An everlasting vision of the everchanging view A wonderous woven magic in bits of blue and gold A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold. ~~ 

For a moment he smiled, and then let the Old Spike take over. 

"Screw sentimentality." 

He rifled through his collection of music, and upon finding what he was looking for, he slipped "Never Mind the Bullocks...(here's the sex pistols)" into his CD player, and crooned along with Johnny Rotten. 

~ I don't wanna Holiday in the sun, I wanna go to the new Belsen! I wanna see some history Cause now I got a reasonable economy! 

Now I got a reason... Now I got a reason...~ 

He grinned in spite of himself. 


End file.
